Izzy Mo’s Blog

(Finally!)

man you ain’t gotta
worry ’bout a thing
’bout your daughter
nah she ain’t my type
(but supposin’ she said she loved me)
are you afraid of the mix of black and white
we’re livin’ in a land where
the law say the mixing of race
makes the blood impure
she’s a woman i’m a man
but by the look on your face
see ya can’t stand it

***

i’ve been wonderin’ why
people livin’ in fear
of my shade
(or my hi top fade)
i’m not the one that’s runnin’
but they got me one the run
treat me like i have a gun
all i got is genes and chromosomes
consider me black to the bone
all i want is peace and love
on this planet
(ain’t that how God planned it?)

Lyrics from Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet

Why am I quoting a rap song?  What does this have to do with Muslim women?

Okay…

Sometimes I feel like Chuck D but instead of rapping about the fear of a Black planet, I would rap (if I could rap, that is) about the fear of black-clad Muslims taking over the world.  I would say,

“Nah, man, this scarf has nothing to do with you. 

It’s about God.  I’m not poking holes into the secular elite.  I’m not out to undo democracy as you know it. 

On the contrary, I’m here to see if there’s room for me, the practicing Muslima, in your society.  Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite? Does that count for all French citizens or does it exclude the 2nd and 3rd generation born Arab and Africans?”

And isn’t the symbol of the black veil the perfect image to represent their fears?  Don’t they always depict us, in their article, films and books, as depressed Black crows?  Or we are wearing Black beekeeper suits?  And they only way to rescue us to strip us naked or make us date liberal White men who will show us what real freedom is all about. Check out the movie Sabah when you get a chance and you’ll know what I’m talking about.  [Side note:  The romantic lothario who saves the oppressed Muslima is never a man of color.  I wonder why???  @@]

I’m quoting a great rap song from one of hip-hop’s greatest artists, Public Enemy.  These lyrics come from a time when rap music had something poignant and important to say.  It’s eons away from when corporations decided on using the successful model of dancing video girls, baggy clothes and gaudy jewelry.  But as you can guess from the gist of the lyrics, Chuck D is talking about his experience as a Black man living in America.  He speaks about being the constant object of suspicision, White America’s subconscious fear of Black men and in particular, Black male sexuality.

When I came across his lyrics, I thought about the following.  I’m sure you’ve noticed that the world news is filled with articles as to how us hijab-clad women are undermining secularism and democracy.  Simply, by our mere presence, by our curious fashion sense borne out of religious conviction, we are rattling everyone from your most staunch radical feminist, to your most conservative Christian, to our fellow assimilationist Muslims.  I know you all can give a story of how you walked into some random public place and suddenly, the mood changes.  We’ve all gotten the look.  We’ve received the curious look, the hostile look, the “Oh, I feel so sorry for her” look and the dreaded “Hey, that Mozlem girl is kinda hot” look. 

“Why do we insist on looking so different,” they ask.  ”You’re in America. You can do whatever you want,” one lady informed me.  Why can’t we just blend in already?  But I’m upset by the fact that of all the problems in the world, the one that invoked the wrath of the readers of the Guardian was Manal Omar in the modest swimsuit.  I guess children dying from AIDS takes a close second place. 

My main response to the question of our dress would be a question in return.  Why is our clothing such a big deal?  I don’t know one single hijaabi or niqaabi that spends hours going on about “Islamic clothing.”  We put it on, we take it off, khalas!  It’s absolutely ridiculous how all these articles and books are solely focused on our clothing.  There’s all these controversies all throughout Europe and Canada.  Should we let them wear the burqa?  [Side note:  When the media uses the word burqa, it could mean anything from a Dolce & Gabbana head scarf to the actual authentic burqa.  We all wear burqas, even you, sister, with the African head wrap and you too, sister, with the bandana. ]

When I read these articles, I feel like Chuck D trying to assure his listeners that my scarf and adherence to Islam is not going to overthrow the government.  Making five prayers a day will not usher in Shari’a and make normally liberal judges start cutting off limbs and flogging single mothers.  And honestly, if you think that democracy is so flimsy that it can’t survive hijabed soccer players or a handful of niqaabis than you need to reevaluate your politics–seriously.  It seems like the whole world is living in fear of a black veil. 

As a Muslim woman, don’t you often wish that you had a big megaphone so that you could go around screaming at people, “I’M NOT OPPRESSED!  LISTEN ME!  I HAVE A WILL OF MY OWN.  STOP SPEAKING FOR ME!  SHUT UP ALREADY!”  Of course, this isn’t sunnah-like behavior but I know there are times when you just want to scream at people to just get a grip already.  I wanted to make sure that this didn’t turn into a “We’re not oppressed” entry but the truth is, we are oppressed.  We have been robbed of our voices.  But the thief of the Muslim woman’s voice is not the usual suspect.  It’s not our protecting fathers, doting husbands and that overally traditional imam.  It’s a mainstream media that refuses to recognize us. 

And who are we exactly?  We are devout, practicing, believing Muslim women who don’t need the New York Times, The View, deconstructionist thought or postmodernist feminism to tell us what Islam is.  We don’t need racist German judges, Turkish secularists, or Tucker Carlson to explicate the meanings of Surah 4, Verse 34. 

We dare to put forth the idea that since we live this religion every day of our lives, we are better suited to tell the world what our lives are like, what our hopes are and what we want for the Muslim world and for humanity. 

For any naysayers who read this blog and shake their heads at the natterings of a brainwashed fool, I have a few pointers for you since you wanna liberate me. 

1)  Let me talk.  No really, when you ask me a question about Islam, be sincere and be quiet.  Don’t talk over me or argue with me when I give you an answer.  Unless, you weren’t sincere in the first place and you were just trying to rattle me and my answer ended up rattling you.  If you ask me something in a sacrastic manner, don’t get mad when I smile and answer you with politeness and knowledge.  Remember, I am the Muslim so I think a may know a little something about Islam.

2) There’s an abusive, barbaric Muslim man living inside your brain and he must be destroyed.  Stop thinking that some horrible Muslim man (usually Arab) has me in chains.  Try to think beyond the psychology of Not Without My Daughter.  Are there abusive Muslim men?  Sure, but they certainly aren’t the only ones who do their fair share of abuse.  Violence against women and extreme patriarchy are global issues.  To treat us a perpetual victims not only undermines the efforts of Muslim women who are fighting against abuse, it ignores the plight of abused non-Muslim women around the world. 

3)  Would it hurt you to interview articulate, educated, pious, devout Muslim women from time to time?  Is that such a hard thing to do?  I swear, whenever they get someone to speak for us, it’s always an angry, bitter woman who just discovered she was Muslim last week.  Most of these women started reading the Qur’an in their late 30s.  They spent most of their lives ignoring and marginalizing the deen.  Think about like this.  If you wanted to interview someone who was an expert on psychology, would you interview the freshman majoring in it or the doctor with ten years of experience? 

4)  Listen to me.  Really, I mean it. Listen to me.  Don’t patronize me. Don’t shut me out because we don’t agree on everything.  This advice is especially suited for radical feminists and their tendency to shut out any woman who doesn’t agree with their agenda.  Last time I checked, I thought one of feminism’s chief values was the right for every woman to express herself.  If this is true, then women who express themselves through adhering to a traditional, organized belief system should not be ridiculed as hapless cogs in the machine of male patriarchy.

5)  Recognize that Muslim women can be just as empowered as any other woman.  But in order for you to recognize this you must expand your definition of liberation.  So many times I hear people complain that Muslim societies are oppressed because the people do not have unlimited, unrestricted sex.  How silly is that?  (Especially since we know that not all of our brothers and sisters are avoiding the haram when it comes to sex)  But if Muslims aren’t having sex then I guess all those kids I see at the masjid got there by osmosis.  So some of us would rather restrict sex to one partner in the bond of marriage.  Big deal.  That doesn’t make us any different than most religious folks throughout the world.  Recent reports claim that married people have better sex lives anyway.  So some Muslim women aren’t running around in short skirts?  Personally, my first day of freedom was when I gave up wearing shorts because was I sick and tired of the dang things riding up my thighs when I walked–only exposing more of my legs for sick men to see. 

I’ll end here by saying this.  We aren’t going anywhere.  Whether you cover your face or don’t wear hijab at all, we all fall under these ugly stereotypes.  We will continue to scream out thoughts into various articles and blogs until our humanity recognized.  We don’t want to be seen as victims unable to change our condition.  For verily, Allah does not change a people until they change want is in themselves. (13:11)

I am woman, hear me roar? 

I am a Muslima, hear me shout!

Takbir?  Allahu akbar!